


a niche in his chest

by tunnelOFdawn



Series: man's inhumanity to man [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Dark, Gen, Hatake Kakashi-centric, Non-Linear Narrative, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 16:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20799362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunnelOFdawn/pseuds/tunnelOFdawn
Summary: [As the wind howls through skeletal trees, so do the wolves in the forests of Konoha. Their howls are too resonant and resounding to fool a man into thinking that these wolves are normal and mortal. Everything is wrong.Kakashi is born with teeth—a million needle sharp protrusions of bone. His father is ecstatic at the resurgence of their yōkai blood. His mother does not live long enough to condone or condemn his existence. She is sucked dry of all chakra by the time childbirth occurs. Sakumo ignores the correlation and any possible causation. He cannot bear to think otherwise. It would ruin him. But Kakashi knows.]Or, wherein, Kakashi's existence is not a revelation in itself but an acknowledgement of monstrosity.





	a niche in his chest

As the wind howls through skeletal trees, so do the wolves in the forests of Konoha. Their howls are too resonant and resounding to fool a man into thinking that these wolves are normal and mortal. Everything is wrong.

Kakashi is born with teeth—a million needle sharp protrusions of bone. His father is ecstatic at the resurgence of their yōkai blood. His mother does not live long enough to condone or condemn his existence. She is sucked dry of all chakra by the time childbirth occurs. Sakumo ignores the correlation and any possible causation. He cannot bear to think otherwise. It would ruin him. But Kakashi _ knows_.

Kin-killer.

One day, kith-killer.

* * *

“I am no flesh and blood wolf,” Kakashi murmurs. “I don’t only hunt for survival. I enjoy the hunt.”

Sasuke gasps at the tight grasp around his throat. Long fingers stretch wide over his neck. A contrast of pale skin against paler skin. 

“Isn’t this all very dramatic?” Kakashi continues. He does not care for his gasping audience. His fingers tighten. “Like a story but not nearly enough romance, hmm. A horror story all the way through. You and I...monsters.”

Rarely has his wishes ever been granted, Kakashi muses. The only thing left to do is live out this story—play his role. Villain, hero, monster...why not all? He is a ninja of Konoha, decried and admired. 

* * *

Lightning lights him up in stark relief, every crevice and every crag illuminated. His shadow stretches sinister-long with an undulation that recalls the movement of waves upon the strand. Yellow eyes shine bright in the moonlit forest. Even in Konoha, the trees shrink back in the unholy illumination of his form. The leaves whisper from tree to tree of retreat and of caution. 

Trees can afford to be achingly cautious. They live so long and grow so slow that time is of no consideration. They know the value of patience. Survival is what they do best. 

* * *

“Did you free Uchiha Sasuke?” they ask. Their wizened faces turn haggard in the weak artificial light. His eyes crease. Beneath his mask, his mouth twists into a mirthless baring of teeth. He sees the pulse at their throats and the swallowing contractions of their throats. Saliva pools in his mouth as he contemplates leaning in—just a simple motion and it would all be over. Just a simple motion and he would have blood sliding down his throat, like morning dew on flowers. 

“What would you do,” he says heavily, “if I did?” He is not so gauche as to leak killing intent. He prefers the implication of death—an implication that cannot be spoken of for lack of evidence. Kakashi is a quiet hunter. He does not howl like his brethren. 

His students are the closest thing to family now. He has a friend in Gai to be sure but Gai is no child dependent on the whims and kindness of others. His students may pretend at independence but the world is not kind to children. 

* * *

When he is assigned a team, he thinks, _ What use have I for a team? A team that will weigh me down, slow me down? _He looks at Uchiha Obito and Nohara Rin…

Kakashi begins to think of the niche in his chest, where a heart would fit perfectly, and he thinks that if he could just maneuver one into place—well then, game over. It happens, of course. Game over. Story concluded. 

When Minato then dies, he goes through the motions. He plunges headfirst into the chilly waters of ANBU. He succumbs willingly to the riptide. The cold numbness is comforting. He doesn’t have to worry about anything except following orders. The blood on his hands is a familiar constant. It dries quick and burrows under his nails (his claws). So warm it stings his chilled skin. 

* * *

His father speaks of honor. Kakashi wants to laugh. What do wolves know of honor? There is no room for such a lofty concept when it comes to survival. When you are flesh and blood, you cannot subsist on insubstantial ideals. 

The world is a phantasmagoric dream. 

He is the bloom of blood that wells up silently after a job well done. He is the gasping breaths of the dying. That liquid choke at the end calls him kin. 

* * *

Kakashi and his ilk were never meant for rules—human intricacies tying them up. But he so desperately yearns for humanity that he slides into the mantle of these rules. He leashes the beast within him to complete mission after mission without fail and without the slightest misstep. He is rule-bound and his hide aches fiercely. He abandons pack for the mission. 

* * *

Kakashi joins ANBU. He begins to think that this whole village is made up of monsters. How deftly they don human skin. They cannot help the way the monstrous peeks through—splitting flesh and dripping blood. 

“What better way to warm up?” Kakashi asks to himself in the mirror. He smiles—tries to smile. His mouth does not curve properly. With a sigh, he wipes off streaks of blood from his face. An unfortunately messy kill had made a mess out of him. 

He slides into the bathtub, scalding hot water covering him. His skin turns red as dried blood turns wet. Vague red swirls begin to infiltrate the bathwater. He watches blood diffuse for a long moment before scrubbing at himself. If he is not careful, he will scrub off his skin. 

He raises a leg, long and finely formed. Water cascades down. Reaching forward, he scrubs at an insistent patch of blood. It turns out that it is his blood and with every scrub, more blood flows out. An injury. He still scrubs.

“Like a story,” Kakashi tells himself.

There is nobody but him to speak. There must be a moral to the story—a purpose to the story. He must have a purpose. There must be a purpose to the misery. It is naïve to believe, Kakashi knows for certain, but belief will only hurt himself. Pain is familiar. He does not mind the fantasy that will ruin him. 

* * *

He looks in the mirror and nobody looks back. 

“What have I done?” 

There is no answer, only the echo off tile and wall.

It is enough.

It is not.

But that is fine.

Familiar.

* * *

Naruto is a thorn in his side. Little fox boy, almost full-grown and with the confidence to match. Little fox boy asks, “Where’s Sasuke?” He asks everyday even if he notices the blood under Kakashi’s nails. A bright smile and sharp teeth.

He wants to tell Naruto, “This is not your story.” But Naruto is a monster full of greed for all that which he has been denied. He will never let go of Sasuke, not having tasted the essence of him in one fleeting moment. He has clung on for years, Kakashi knows for certain.

Kakashi says, “Underground.”

Naruto wants to run but Kakashi whispers in his ear of lovely, monstrous dreams. A little patience and you will have everything, he promises. Wake up in the dragon’s dream, little fox boy. Wake up the dragon and let the world collapse.

Naruto has never not known destruction.

Neither has Kakashi.

**Author's Note:**

> there’s a niche in his chest  
where a heart would fit perfectly,  
and he thinks if he could just maneuver one into place–  
well then, game over.
> 
> \- Richard Siken
> 
> Open to constructive criticism and very much so to kudos and comments. :)
> 
> You can find me on on tumblr as [tunnelOFdawn](https://tunnelofdawn.tumblr.com/) and twitter as [tunnelOFdawn](https://twitter.com/tunnelOFdawn). I post fic previews and ficlets on tumblr; I post shorter ficlet threads on twitter.


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